Page:The Splendid Shilling by John Philips (1719).pdf/9

Rh Me lonely sitting, nor the glimmering Light Of Make-weight Candle, nor the joyous Talk Of loving Friend delights; distress'd, forlorn, Amidst the horrors of the tedious Night, Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal Thoughts My anxious Mind; or sometimes mournful Verse Indite, and sing of Groves and Myrtle Shades, Or desperate Lady near a purling Stream, Or Lover pendant on a Willow-Tree. Mean while, I Labour with eternal Drought, And restless Wish, and Rave; my parched Throat Finds no Relief, nor heavy Eyes Repose: But if a Slumber haply does invade My weary Limbs, my Fancy's still awake, Thoughtful of Drink, and eager, in a Dream, Tipples imaginary Pots of Ale, In Vain; awake, I find the settled Thirst Still gnawing, and the pleasant Phantom curse.


 * Thus do I Live from Pleasure quite debarr'd,

Nor taste the Fruits that the Sun's genial Rays Mature, John-Apple, nor the downy Peach, Nor Walnut in rough-furrow'd Coat secure, Nor Medlar-Fruit, delicious in decay: Afflictions Great! yet Greater still remain: My Galligaskins that have long withstood The Winter's Fury, and incroaching Frosts, By Time subdu'd, (what will not Time subdue!) An horrid Chasm disclose, with Orifice Wide, discontinuous; at which the Winds Rh